Open your eyes
by Ravenclaw's heir
Summary: One morning Hermione Granger wakes up feeling something that she hasn't felt in a long time, and she doesn't know if she should believe in it or just ignore it. Oneshot. Please read and review


**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the Harry Potter characters. All the copyright belongs to Warner Brothers, J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, Scholastic, etc… I just own the plot

**A/N:** Hello everyone! This is the first time that I publish something in English, it's a translation of my fic "Abre los ojos" and I hope you like it and review it. Special thanks to Kya, Cait, Kare, and Kir for being my betas D I hope it isn't full of mistakes :P

Ok, without further ado here it is, hope you like it, and don't forget to leave a review after you're done.

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**Open your eyes**

I open my eyes.

An endless darkness envelops me and takes over my senses, not letting me think for a moment. I blink and look around me as my eyes adjust to the blackness. His snoring tells me that he's still asleep, and without making a noise I slide out of bed like a cat lurking around in the shadows. I go to the doors that lead me to the balcony.

The guilt overwhelms me when I think about what had been going through my head before. I turn half way around and see his form on the sheets, and my heart shrinks in sadness, lack of love, deception… I take a deep breath thinking again about what woke me up at the beginning. It hadn't been him. Throughout the years I had gotten so used to his snoring and his sudden movements on the bed that I could go to sleep without that bothering me.

Then… _what had it been?_ I had felt something, something so strong that I hadn't felt in such a long time that I had already forgotten about it. Maybe it had been because of what I had been thinking before I went to bed, and the feeling had transferred into my subconscious mind, letting me feel it in my dreams.

No, that's not it, and I know it very well. It had been him, Harry, I had never been wrong when he was alive, I can't be mistaken now. I had developed such finely tuned sixth sense when it came to him that it had never failed me when he was alive.

I felt ashamed once again. I couldn't keep doing this to Ron, not him. I had fallen in love with Harry, and we had been together for such a short period of time that we weren't able to tell anyone, not even Ron, who later on asked me to be his wife. I didn't love Ron, and I still don't love him. I've known that since I realized my love for Harry. I had married him because of the loneliness, because I was trying to find in him something that reminded me of Harry, as other than me, he was the one closest to Harry among everyone else. But it didn't work, and each day I hate myself a little more because of that mistake.

I loved Harry. It was a crazy, all-consuming love that even made me ill. But it was for nothing, because I loved him too late. I never had a chance to tell him just how much I loved him, because I was afraid to accept that I felt something greater than me, greater than I could comprehend. I automatically rejected those feelings, because my logical mind couldn't understand something as abstract as love.

There are so many things that I regret, not telling Harry that I loved him is one of them. A chill runs through my spine and the hairs in my arms and the back of my neck stand up. I look around.

_It's him_

All that I can make out is the silhouette of some furniture in the room as my eyes get accustomed to the night. Taking a deep breath, a mixture of relief and disappointment washing over me, I rub my forearms with my hands, trying to fight off the cold. I walk to the chair where my dressing gown is and put it on, followed by my slippers. Again I direct myself to the doors and without looking back I open them and go out. Waves of cool air wash over me once I've stepped out into the balcony, closed the doors behind me, and turned to look around. Some lights are still on and every once in a while a car passes by in the otherwise deserted streets of London.

Today is the anniversary of his death. Ten years have passed since he died, ten years in which I have suffered on countless times because I haven't been able to be with him, to give him some company, like it should have been in the first place. This day will be like it has always been in the past years on the day of Harry's anniversary. Ron and I will go and buy two red roses and we will go to Harry's grave. We will leave the roses; each one will talk to Harry in silence, and after a while we will say goodbye to him and go over to the Weasleys to spend the rest of the day with them. Even if it doesn't fall over a weekend, we are given the day free. Everybody knows today is the day he died. Almost everyone in the magical world goes to his grave, which is in reality a little altar, and leaves one rose per person; not a dozen, not a hundred roses, but one single rose. That's the tradition. It's a tribute to Harry, and each rose represents one year in which each person has been granted the chance to live, and one year in which Harry couldn't.

I wipe away the tears that are beginning to appear in my eyes and take a deep breath to try to control the ones that are threatening to fall down. I am always like this on this day, and Ron always tries in vain to comfort me.

He knows that I don't love him, Ron that is, at least not in that way. He has seen it in my eyes, in the way I express myself when it comes to him, in the way I treat him… in _everything_. Ron knows that my heart belongs to another one, and he also knows that that the other is Harry. At first he tried to hate Harry for taking me from him, but it is hard to hate someone when they are gone, especially if that person was his best friend and saved him from the death. Then he tried to hate me, but he can't hate the woman he loves, even less if that woman is his best friend too. He ended up hating and blaming himself because he was not the person that I loved. I made him forget that with soft kisses and tender caresses. I just couldn't let him hate himself. I love Ron, he is the most important person in my life, but the love I have for him will never be compared to the love I have for Harry, because _he isn't Harry_. He doesn't have to be, I am not asking him to. That is just the way it is.

I feel another chill running through my body, and I look around again, feeling defeated. I know it is Harry, I can feel him, but I can't see him. I sigh sadly and finally let the tears fall down, sorrow filling my soul.

"Harry…" I murmur and let the wind take away my words. I look up at the sky and see the dawn light filtering through the leaves of the trees. Some stars are still shining. I silently beg that my voice will reach them, so that they can let Harry know how much I love him. Love is something so beautiful yet so terrible at the same time. I am happy because I could love Harry. He woke up such a beautiful feeling inside of me, the kind of feeling the poets write about, and the kind of feeling most people never have or will experience. But I am sad because I couldn't share that love with him and I couldn't take it any further. If only… No, there is no reason to think about what could have happened.

Once again I rub my forearms with my hands and feel the wind caressing my face, wiping away my tears and my sorrow.

_Open your eyes_

I jump slightly when I hear this. I look around me for the hundredth time hoping to see something that tells me, that shows me… _It had been his voice_.

No, it can't be possible. Maybe it had been a figment of my imagination, which is the most probable thing given that all I want right now is to hear Harry's voice. This thought makes me sad, because it makes me realize that everything I had felt this morning was probably made up by my own mind, because I had wished for it so much. I feel new tears ready to be shed when something catches my attention. Something that looks pretty much like a leaf is brought by the wind to me. I open my hand and catch the leaf just in time before it escapes through the balcony and falls to the ground. It's a medium size, spade shaped leaf, soft to touch and delicate. But what interests me the most is its color. The sky is clearer now and it's more visible, so I manage to distinguish the leaf's color. It's a rich emerald green color, something that isn't common at late autumn and beginning of winter, and least of all this type of leaf that isn't found on any tree even in a five block radius to my house. I look at the leaf surprised, analyzing every part of it, as if it would tell me where it came from.

_Open your eyes_

I look up again and watch all over the balcony with thoroughness. I am completely alone. I look again at the leaf and analyze the situation. After a while I realize the whole thing, and a small smile creeps into my lips as I keep watching the leaf in my hands.

_It was him, he was here _I think happily as I laugh to myself. At first I don't notice Ron stepping out to the balcony as he tightens the grip of his gown to his body.

"Hermione?" he asks unsure as he rubs his hands together. I turn around and look at him feeling a bubble of happiness bursting inside of me. I had never felt happy on this day before.

"Yes?" I ask, a smile playing on my lips.

"Are you alright?" he asks repeating the gesture of his hands. I smile warmly at him and walk over to him putting one hand on his cheek for a moment.

"Yes, it's just that… today is going to be a good day, love" I say affectionately before going back to the room. Ron stares back at me, looking perplexed, before he follows my lead and goes back inside as well, shutting the doors behind him.

Yes, I think with a slight smile as I get myself ready for the day, the leaf still clutched in my hand. Today is going to be a good day, I can feel it, because Harry was with me, and that gives me the strength to conquer it all. I just had to open my eyes.


End file.
